The Bear Trap
by 89KBP
Summary: Turning the clock back to 1987, where Balalaika and her unit are sent into Afghanistan. Controversial figures appear in this one, just a heads-up.
1. CH1 - OVER THE MOUNTAINS

**A/N: Written as a gift for a friend.**

* * *

 _ **Over the Mountains**_

The Antonov commenced its slow descent towards Bagram Airfield, Balalaika managed to get a glimpse of the snow-capped Afghan mountains through the cockpit. "We're landing in five, get your men prepped to get the hell out of my plane Captain." Balalaika turned and walked into the cargo bay where her unit was sleeping. "Get ready to move, we're out of this can in less than five minutes!"

"Sergeant get these men ready!" Balalaika shouted again over the droning hum of the engines. Boris began shouting orders to the drowsy men, and one by one they got up and slowly moved around the plane grabbing their equipment, and hauling it over their backs. The plane jolted forward and everyone nearly fell flat on their asses. "We've landed hurry your asses up!" Everyone began waiting by the rear doors to be the ones to get out first. Balalaika elbowed her way through the crowd and stood in front of the doors, checking her watch.

 _11:32_.

The doors finally opened and rays of sunlight flooded the cargo bay. She stood, amazed at the sights and smells before her. Bagram Airfield was a busy place compared to the military airports of Moscow and Kazakhstan. Everyone around her rushed off the plane and to the parked trucks. Balalaika strolled off onto the tarmac and greeted the commander of the airbase. "I take it you must be Captain Pavlovna?" She cringed, hearing that name was the equivalent of grinding nails onto a chalkboard. "Everyone calls me Balalaika."

"Well Captain or Balalaika, or whatever the hell you call yourself, we've got a situation and you're needed in the command center, my driver will get you there."

"And what about yourself?" She asked. "I have more pressing matters to attend to." He called back as he jogged into Antonov. She pivoted on her heels and looked at the driver. He opened the door and motioned for her to get inside. After she got in her slammed the door and got into the driver seat. Turning the ignition, he sped off in the direction of the terminal. _"Christ I didn't know a UAZ could go this fast."_ Mumbling to herself as the images outside the window became a blur.

* * *

The communications room was in a buzz as Balalaika walked through, dozens of radiomen were busy responding to nearby calls and or attempting to direct troops to their correct destinations. Her driver still accompanied her, up until a door came between them. "The commander is waiting inside." The door was again opened for Balalaika as she walked inside the office. A desk had been set up in the middle of the room with detailed maps and a few pencils. The commander looked up and stood by the table, offering his hand. "A drink, or perhaps a cigar?"

"I don't smoke or drink."

"Ah." His voice trailed. "Anyway, we still have this issue to deal with, here come sit with me." She sat across from him and stared at the intricate maze of positions and supply dumps on the map. "If you didn't know already we have a bit of a problem here in Bagram and Northern Kabul." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Other than the soldiers going missing in broad daylight – Actually that brings me to one thing. I've gotten reports of soldiers being pulled into the air by balloons, _**(1)**_ believe it or not." Balalaika yawned. "It's been like this for days, and my blood is running cold through my veins."

"You sure that it's blood and not something else running through you and your men's veins?" _**(2)**_

"Very funny. You know for a stupid shlyukha _**(3)**_ like yourself, you're a very funny girl."

"And for an annoying dick, you're really an annoying dick." She responded bluntly.

"Well for an annoying dick, I have powerful friends and your only connection is your piece-of-shit weasel of a father who kisses the General Secretary's ass!" He shouted. "So, we're gonna get going on this plan of yours or what?" Came Balalaika's lazy response.

"Yes, if you cut the stupid remarks of yours. Other than what I just said, you and your men are going to help with the movement and distribution of supplies near the main road into Khost. 'Place has been under siege by those muj _**(4)**_ assholes for months."

"Logistics? You're pretty much sending me to pack boxes and drive trucks?" She interrupted.

The commander paused for a bit, then chuckled to himself. "This isn't like punching a clock at the local supermarket in Moscow girlie. The Rebels usually destroy these convoys whole and take no prisoners." Her mood only worsened hearing this. "I'll be sending you support obviously, but we can only follow you out to 30 or so miles, then you and your boys are on your own."

* * *

"Slow down idiot you don't even know which one it is." Balalaika called to Boris. "You sure this is the one Captain?"

"Yeah this is it right here."

Boris banged his fist on the wooden door. "Open up!" He repeated it again, "Open up!" The door opened a crack and a figure peeked their eyes through the opening. "Who the fuck are you dumbass?"

"Who the fuck are you these are my quarters damnit." The door finally opened fully and a half-naked man had a gun to Boris' face. "I suggest you put that piece away." The man looked at Boris and Balalaika, then back to Boris. "So, you're the jarheads staying here before deployment. Hurry the fuck up and bring whatever you have in before someone sees me."

* * *

 **A/N: Kept it short, didn't want to overwork myself. Hope you enjoyed, also Happy New Year.**

1 Reference to MGS5: The Phantom Pain's Fulton Recovery System, where a target is launched into the air and retrieved by a helicopter via balloon.

2 A myth/rumor that Soviet soldiers in Afghanistan used Opium and/or Heroin whilst on deployment.

3 Russian for "whore"

4 Mujahideen


	2. CH2 - BADLANDS

**A/N: Apparently it's custom to declare that you don't own Black Lagoon, etc. even though it's pretty obvious**

 _ **Badlands**_

"Alright, so let me get this straight, you want to send us South so the problem here up North can be fixed?" Balalaika began rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Mhm. It'll free up the occupied troops in the town of Khost."

"What's going on there anyway?" Boris said as he traced his finger down the Salang Pass on the map. " _GRU_ **(1)** intelligence suggests that it isn't the usual rabble that come through Khyber, some of them barely speak Arabic and use a plain white flag as their colors." **(2)**

"The flag of surrender maybe?"

"No, far from it. It's apparently one of the Mujahideen factions vying for control."

"Well Major, what's this operation about? You're only telling us opening details hurry it up."

"Just a minute Captain, I'm looking for something." The badly lit office room was in a dilapidated state compared to the rest of the Airbase. Occasionally Balalaika could hear trucks and APCs move around outside but for the most part it was quiet. "Ah, here it is." The Major laid out several files and a large map over his desk and scrawled a few extra notes on the map. "I'll give you a minute to give the route and overall map a look-over, this might be the last time you look at this." Just like the office itself, the map was badly kept as there was multiple stains, wrinkles, and creases in the thick paper. Nevertheless, its contents seemed more pressing than whatever the Airbase commander presented to her.

Question marks and Xs were dotted randomly across the chart prompting Balalaika to question what they were. "What is this?" She pointed to the large X and question mark on the main highway into Khost and the city itself. "We don't have a clue what's going on there so we usually just mark it off and tell Kabul that it's a no-go zone."

"You don't send anyone to investigate?" Boris scratched his head, looking at the mess around the room. "We used to, if the commander didn't tell you already we had a shitload of guys go missing in those question mark areas. The Muj usually just ransom them off back to us but we haven't heard anything since and the first case of this happening was back in what – 1984?"

"So it's been three years since and you haven't bothered to actually tell the Kremlin what's going on here? You guys are shit." The Major scowled, "Don't give me any grief for this, we're stretched thin and the last thing we need is to tell the Kremlin that we're like this. They'll cut whatever we had left to nothing." He drank a bit of whatever was behind his desk and coughed. "Moving on." His finger delineated to the main highway just south of Kabul. "You're gonna pass through Kabul first and take this highway onto the one linking Khost and the rest of the country. Our planes here have fuel to go farther than thirty miles but due to those _things_ **(3)** flying anywhere beyond Kabul is a risk, so air support is a no for the time being."

"And the overall Operation?"

"Oh, I almost forgot, you're taking part in Operation Magistral, **(4)** maybe if you do good enough you can earn a stripe and get that 'Guards' designation." He chuckled to himself. "Anyway, you are to take this strategic point on this hill here, hill 3231." Balalaika's eyes followed as he traced his finger to the hill. "You'll be traveling in a convoy of two BMP-2s acting as escorts, one Ural-4320 for any extra equipment and or transport, three BTR-80s and a supply contingent, which is around three fuel trucks and four Kamaz trucks loaded with ammunition. That sound good?" Balalaika nodded to the Major. "Okay, since we have the vehicles sorted out I'm gonna tell you this once and one time only, the drivers, and whoever is out there has more experience than you. Everyone in your unit is considered to be inexperienced so they'll teach you how to survive in this pisshole, understood?"

"Sure." The Major got up from his chair and held a hand out, first shaking Boris' then Balalaika's hand. He itched at his head and sat back down. "You're one-hundred percent sure that you'll follow their instructions to a T, correct?"

"Yes, for the second and final time we will follow through with them, no need to worry Major my men have prior experience, we'll tough through it."

* * *

Balalaika took one last good look at the capital, Kabul, before turning around to face towards the front again. All around her were vast amounts of mountains and desert, with the occasional civilian car speeding past in the other lane. The Earth was eerily quiet too, even as they passed through the villages on the outskirts of Kabul, many people ran at the sight of the Soviet columns and gunships. The BTRs commander was unbuttoned, sitting on the side of the hull, and eating a piece of watermelon. "You look disappointed Captain." The commander laughed heartily at her. "Were you expecting constant ambushing and landmines lining the road?"

"It's just that it's quiet, the lack of noise out here is getting to my nerves." She said as she re-adjusted her _Panamanka_. **(5)** "Get used to this Captain Balalaika, you'll miss it once we start fighting the Mujahideen." He laughed again as she obviously began to show discomfort in his words. The column continued for a while before stopping at a fork in the road with a Sarandoy **(6)** checkpoint stopping them. A few words were exchanged and the convoy started its journey again. After a painstaking hour of travel, they managed to reach the outskirts of Pol-e Alam. "Just a quick tip Captain,"

"What is it Lieutenant?" She turned her head towards him. "Don't pick up these parrot-shaped **(7)** things off the ground, they're landmines. You'll get fucked up bad if you manage to."

"Thanks for the heads up..?" Balalaika looked around the soil trying to spot said mine.

 _ **UNKNOWN POV**_

The VHS began recording, the image on-screen blinking several times before managing to focus. The date read "NOV. 16 1987, 2:30 PM." It was panned onto a grumpy looking figure on the back of the BTR with several other men. "Sergeant Boris, wave to my family back home!" The cameraman said. Boris grunted, doing a small wave before returning to reading his book. Others on the ride waved and cheered at the camera, seeing as it was their only connection to their families back home and the rest of the USSR. The camera's owner did a quick portrait shot of their surroundings and resumed its original recording of the back of the caravan. It shot a blonde woman speaking to a commander in the back, zooming in on her face for several seconds. "There is our beautiful commander." Said the owner jokingly. "She'll kill you if she figures out what you're saying, besides what will your girlfriend say?"

"Haha, she knows that I'm only joking besides my girlfriend won't figure out what we're doing he-" The camera was ejected from its owner's hands, and onto the hard dirt. It took several seconds for the camera to process what had happened, as a part of the film became damaged. Sound was restored to the tape and an explosion could be heard in the background. This kicked up dirt everywhere and covered the top portion of the camera with dust. A figure was seen crawling on the floor, bloodied. He rolled around on the ground holding whatever was left of his upper thigh and looked like he was screaming. The camera again could not capture this as the audio became distorted for a few seconds again. Muffled shouting and groans of pain became audible once more. The BTRs damaged engine produced a loud humming noise that mainly drowned everything out. The camera was picked up again, this time by a different voice. "Is everyone okay? Where is Grennadiy, I have his camera!"

"Fucking assholes, I'm going to die!" Someone frantically screamed. The picture was shaky for a while as the holder was running back to the BTR. Large amounts of blood and pieces of someone's body was visible. Again, the camera was placed onto the floor. The shouting and cries of pain resumed as people could be heard moving in the background. Three minutes had passed since the beginning of the tape and gunfire was becoming increasingly prevalent around them. Nearly destroyed and on fire, the BTR slowly traversed its turret towards the hill and began firing. Loud pops with varying intervals reigned supreme over all the other commotion. A distant thud echoed throughout the mountains, with a rocket striking the BTR and ending the VHS recording.

* * *

 **A/N: Something a bit longer, since the last chapter was quite bare. Also if anyone is wondering why I haven't used any names other than Balalaika and Boris, it's due to the anime being very limited in what they share on Hotel Moscow's actions in Afghanistan. (another part being my laziness and the difficulty of fleshing out individual characters that aren't plain Gary-Stus) Hope you enjoyed.**

 **EDIT: i read over balalaika's info on the wiki again and it stated that she was discharged back in 1986, the reasoning and action behind the discharge was kinda stupid to me so i just skipped that event entirely.**

1 – _Main Intelligence Directorate for military affairs in the Soviet Union. (_ _ **G**_ _lavnoye_ _ **R**_ _azvedyvatel'noye_ _ **U**_ _pravleniye)_

 _2 – This is the very early formation of the Taliban/Al-Qaeda, as they had more prevalence in Southern Provinces. Early Taliban (and sometimes even modern) flags were simple plain white pieces of cloth._

 _3 – A reference to US-supplied FIM-92 "Stinger" MANPADS that the Mujahideen used to take down Soviet aircraft._

 _4 – An actual military operation that took place under the Soviet command to free up the route from Gardez to Khost, to relieve government forces besieged by the Haqqani network, Taliban, and others._

 _5 – This hat was standard issue among Soviet forces in Afghanistan. Had a booniehat-like brim, with a traffic coned shaped mid-section. Later on in the war, (same time around Balalaika being deployed) the quality of these hats deteriorated severely, as the cloth was replaced with a cheap substitute and the metal full-colored pin of the Soviet Union was replaced with a sewn on, dull plastic star._

 _6 – Paramilitary belonging to the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan. Nicknamed "The Defenders of the Revolution."_

 _7 – Soviet PFM-1 anti-personnel landmine. Rather than being colored sand, the stocks in the Soviet Union still had the European Green scheme on them. Children mistook these as toys and thus many of them died by accidental detonation. Nicknamed "Butterfly mine."_


	3. CH3 - THE SWORD OF ISLAM

**A/N: Chapter took longer than expected due to writer's block and research behind it, enough excuses though. Introducing an OC along with several of the key players in the Afghan Mujahideen. The chapter kinda gets racy so there's that too.**

* * *

 _ **The sword of Islam**_

 _ **HONI SAIDAN, OUTSKIRTS OF POL-E ALAM**_

A small Afghan village was teeming with life amongst the barren wasteland of the countryside. Children played with each other amongst the back alleys and side streets, elders sat in porches drinking tea and discussing everyday life, and the other adults were busy doing menial chores such as crop gathering and laundry. An average-sized man walked up to the village, the only thing off about him was his skin. His skin was a lighter tone than those in the countryside, mostly everyone there were a caramel/coffee color. Everyday life didn't stop just because of the stranger though, everyone still carried out what they had to do unless it was of utmost importance that they must stop.

As he walked further into the village the elders began sizing up who he was and what his business is. They sat silently and judged him from afar, his clothing was an old Afghanka _**(1)**_ , devoid of any patches or identification to show where he came from. Mostly everything about him was old, his boots, weapon, etc. except for his face. His facial features were that of someone from the Caucasus. An increasingly scraggly short beard adorned his face, along with unkempt hair to match. One elder managed to gather the courage to say something to him. "What is your name, young man?" He turned his head to the elder. "I am Fyodor Sadalim, and you?" The elder was surprised he was talking to someone of Russian descent who could speak in Pashtun, something that sent a chill down his spine. "I am Sheikh _**(2)**_ Atal, what is your business here Mister Sadalim?"

"I've come for Jihad." _**(3)**_ Came his somber response. Atal's face expression worsened, it was bad enough that a Russian came to the village, even more that he came to wage war against his own brothers. "Very well Mister Sadalim, I shall lead you to Amir _**(4)**_ al-Qahtani." Atal got up from the rug and tea table outside of the house and motioned for Fyodor to follow. He did so and was led to a rock formation with a cave nearby. "This is as far as I will escort you, Amir al-Qahtani does not like it when one of us enters." Atal started back down the hillside again, leaving Fyodor to decide whether to enter. He did so, and walked several feet inside a small corridor before being greeted to a large cavern with several other men and women inside. Only one man seemed to care about his presence though, and he looked as if he was the leader of the men. He motioned with his head for Fyodor to come to him, and he obeyed. The man was sat by two women, one on his lap and the other by his left hand. Besides them, two men flanked the five of them, presumably his guards. "Are you Amir al-Qahtani?" Fyodor finally spoke. "No, but what is your business here? You look Russian, I don't know if to reward you with your bravery or have you shot."

Fyodor knelt before the man. "I've come to fight, for Jihad honorable Hajjaj." He laughed, almost as if what he had heard was nothing but a jest. "A foreigner and Jihad?" His bouts of laughter ceased as he returned to his original composure. "Ah, you're serious. I am Amir al-Umara _**(4)**_ Umar Jordan. You are?"

"I am Fyodor Sadalim, Amir." Umar frowned. "Is this a joke? Do you make a mockery of me?!" He angrily shouted. Umar stood up abruptly, which made the women by his side scatter off to the side. Fyodor still knelt before him. "No, honorable Amir. My name is Russian but I am Muslim at heart."

"Look at me!" Umar half-yelled. Fyodor looked up at him. Umar's beard was longer and scragglier than his, and his left eye was half-opened with his iris missing. A lungee _**(5)**_ was atop his head, and he wore the typical kurta say for the woodland military jacket he had over it. Umar studied Fyodor's facial features too, his eyes meeting with his and giving a piercing glare. "I'll decide what to do with you later on, in the meantime go take a bath, I can't have you looking and smelling like someone homeless when the other Amirs arrive." Fyodor stood and bowed deeply to him. "I'll have Fatima escort you there." He turned and looked to the woman who was presumed to be 'Fatima'. She wore the usual hijab _**(6)**_ but that seemingly hid the rest of her beauty. Her skin was a lighter pigment than the other women he's seen in Afghanistan, her eyes a dull, yet beautiful shade of light brown. And through her garb she was seemingly well-endowed too. He quickly averted his eyes back to Umar as she approached him and took his hand.

Fatima led him outside and past a bathing pool that was occupied by the other men. He turned his head. "Where are you taking me?"

"The bath."

"Then why did we pass it just now?"

"The one I lead you to is more secluded, private. Unless you want to spend your time bathing with other men." Fyodor shut his mouth. She had a point after all, and if he had a chance to bathe with her alone, he'd could die now and be a happy man. They finally reached the alcove after walking several minutes past the old pools. She let go of him and turned to walk off. "I'll be back again, you don't have to wait for me to return." He obeyed. Taking off his sweaty and worn Afghanka and tossing it aside. Absentmindedly he also lightly tossed his AK amongst the pebbles near the pool. The metal receiver and wood grip giving a slight 'Thwack' sound when it hit the floor. He lowered himself into the pool and reclined against the smooth rock. The steam from the pool rose higher and higher as the night went on. Fyodor closed his eyes and yawned. Whatever Fatima was doing she took quite a while returning. He heard the sound of bare feet walking against the grass and gravel, which he assumed was just someone from the village who had lost their way.

The footsteps came closer and closer until they finally stopped right behind him, in which he felt someone's legs wrapping around his neck and chest making him look up and open his eyes. It was Fatima, but considerably less dressed. His eyes had a full underside view of her bare breasts and some parts of her face. His body tensed up, and she felt this. _"You do not need to hold back, I am well-versed in the ways of healing the hardworking gentleman..."_ **(7)**

"Is that so?" He smiled to himself. Fyodor turned around and kissed her exposed stomach. She giggled and he continued. Reaching his hand inside her lower garb and trying to find an entrance to the _access point._ He was stopped halfway up her thigh as he felt something leathery against her skin. She reacted oddly as she tried to take his hand out of her skirt. He reached inside again and felt it once more. The leather was positioned in a way as if it was a leg holster for a weapon. After increasingly more prodding, much against Fatima's will he felt the hilt and blade of a knife. "What the fu-" She kneed him in the face and he fell back into the pool. He got back out and the both began wrestling over control of the knife. Fyodor felt his wet hands steadily losing grip against Fatima's force. He quickly jerked her hand back and made her fall into the pool. As he jumped out he grabbed his clothes and threw them back on as fast as he could. His weapon was still waiting by the pool, but only he only had one magazine with him. Despite this he took the AKS-74 and ran down the path again. Someone must have heard them struggle as someone was shouting something further down the path. He turned to the right and ran through the maze of thick bushes and trees. Fyodor finally broke out and entered a field on the outside of the village. Activity increased throughout the village as the mujahideen attempted to flush him out, assuming he had hidden in one of the houses.

He ran across the field and onto the main road out of the village again. He turned a final corner on the street and was greeted with a cold, hard object connecting with the bridge of his nose. His vision blurred badly in the dying moonlight. A hand rolled him onto his back, and one of Umar's men planted their boots into his face. Fyodor blacked out and lost consciousness as the men dragged his lifeless body back to the cave.

* * *

"This is Post Chekhov, CP do you copy?"

"This is CP, go ahead Post Chekhov."

"Err, CP we've just received a report from one of our LRRPs **(8)** that's some convoy's taking heavy fire along the main road into Pol-e Alam, please advise."

"Wait one Post Chekhov." The line went silent between Chekhov and CP, presumably the radio operator reporting to his superior on what to do next. "Uh, Post Chekhov headquarters recommends you dig in, possible counter-offensive in the area."

"Roger that CP, Post Chekhov acknowledges, out." The guard commander of the post put down the telephone receiver and checked his wristwatch.

 _8:21._

He looked outside the window of his command housing and watched as the checkpoint was still operating under normal conditions. The door to his room was opened. "What do they want us to do Leytenant?"

"Dig in as usual, probably just those assholes taking potshots at some convoy."

"So, no digging in?"

"No. We still have a long way to process whoever the hell wants to go through this road and I don't wanna waste our time double checking papers nobody cares about." The man nodded, closing the door and returning to his post. The Lieutenant returned to his menial task of filing paperwork. Outside the guards processing vehicles began chatting with eachother and the drivers who came through. "Any idea what's going on up there?" The driver asked. "Nothing, just the usual shooting. You're cleared." The checkpoint gate was opened and the car drove on through. A medium-sized truck pulled up with one man in the driver seat. "Registry?" The driver pulled out a few papers and handed it over to the guard. He read over them a bit before reaching up to hand them back. He was confused as the driver was doubling over on the passenger seat and was fiddling with something. "Sir?"

A large bomb blast went off at the front of the checkpoint, instantly killing the driver and guards around it. Just seconds after that the checkpoint took fire from an unknown location, many of the guards and vehicles scattering as the fire grew more accurate. A mortar was fired, and hit right on the commander's blockpost, cutting the communication between the checkpoint and CP. The soldiers panicked as their chain of command was cut and they returned fire in a sloppy way. Almost all of them were shooting at virtually nothing, as the receiving fire grew heavier. Soon though, dark silhouettes formed amongst the rocks overlooking the post. It didn't take long for the attackers to finish off the scared and badly trained defenders. The fire stopped and the attackers flooded the checkpoint. Taking valuables, prisoners, and other commodities they wanted. "Alḥamdulillāh." **(9)** One of them quietly commented. The remainder of them walked to the rest of the group. Most of them still picking through the scattered clothing and weapons. There was a commotion at the checkpoint's barracks. Four men surrounded a body hunched over. "Get up!" Someone shouted at the man, though he made no attempt to move. "He's done for, let's get outta' here." A new voice interjected. "No, we're not done, everyone get back!" The original man presented his gun at the wounded soldier as everyone began to move away.

"Bismillah, Allāhu Akbar!" ( **10)** He yelled at the top of his lungs as the hail of bullets was bestowed upon the wounded soldier. The victory was short lived, as the sound of helicopter rotors and truck engines was heard in the distance.

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully I actually wrote something longer, I highkey hate writing chapters that are short**

 _1 -_ _Slang term for a field uniform system developed and issued by the_ _Soviet Army_ _in the early 1980s._

 _2 – A tribe/village leader in the Muslim world._

 _3 – A struggle or fight against the enemies of Islam. The radical mujahideen leaders of Afghanistan called for one against the Soviets as early as 1979._

 _4 – "Emir of Emirs." A senior military leader._

 _5 – Cloth used as a Turban in Afghanistan._

 _6 – Headdress that women are required to wear in many Muslim countries._

 _7 – A line from episode 10 in_ Saijaku Muhai no Bahamut where Yoruka goes into the bathroom with Lux.

 _8 – Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol_

 _9 – Praise be to God._

 _10 – Bismillah: "In the name of Allāh._ "


	4. OMAKE 1 REMAKE - FALL FROM GRACE

**A/N: Didn't like how the first omake had turned out. This story hasn't been updated in 3+ months due to me being lazy as hell and having no incentive to write anymore. Of course I'll still continue to work on this but due to the scale of it all, the story is taking longer than expected to draft and finish. Just a short update on the state of the story.**

 **Fall from Grace**

 **CHERYOMUSHKI DISTRICT, MOSCOW, MAY 24** **TH,** **1992**

Balalaika lazily switched channels on her old Zenith TV, getting increasingly agitated as the channels that were airing were shitty to her or had bad reception. She laid back on the bed for the time being as _Russia-1_ came on. It was airing the usual garbage since she moved here. Rampant corruption and crime, and a mixture of nostalgic and wistful feelings for the Soviet Union. Balalaika puffed the old Kosmos cigarette, the papery taste indicating that it had been past it's sell by date. Not much has happened since the commotion back in December. Still, even with the relatively peaceful nature of the capital many people were forced to commit crimes to make ends meet. The sound of turning keys stole her attention for the time being. More than likely it was Kirill, and it was. He walked inside carrying a small black box along with a large plastic bag.

"Alright move over, I'll show you what I got." She moved over and let Kirill place the bags on the bed. He opened the first one, the black box which contained a Stechkin APS. Balalaika picked it up and tested the weight in her hands, aiming the sights at the window. "What's this?"

"Automatic pistol. Still uses the 9 by 18 round if you care. Carries 20 rounds, select fire et cetera." She set the pistol back down on the bed and watched as he unwrapped a businesswoman's suit along with a cigar box. "These Cuban?" Balalaika asked as she picked up one of the cigars. "No, Dominican, _Arturo Fuente_." She never really enjoyed a cigar before, and she probably wouldn't start now as it came to her that such expensive items had to be consumed or done in a certain way. "We're visiting that one friend of yours by the way, what was his name, Boris? Anyway, he works a hotdog stand at Evrika."


End file.
